


Just a Black Coffee

by InkSplatterM



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Coffee Line Meet-Cute, Gen, Getting Together, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 00:46:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10686318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkSplatterM/pseuds/InkSplatterM
Summary: Victor knew the man that was always three places behind him in line as “Black Coffee. Yes, just a black coffee”.  The emphasis had to be made because the shop, Georgi’s Alchemy, was better known for their odd concoctions and the latte foam art.“He doesn’t come in when you’re not here,” Mila said to Victor one day as he paid his $5.95.“Who?”“The guy after you, the one who orders just a black coffee. He looks in the windows for you.”





	Just a Black Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sandkopf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandkopf/gifts).



Victor knew the man that was always three places behind him in line as “Black Coffee. Yes, just a black coffee”. The emphasis had to be made because the shop, Georgi’s Alchemy, was better known for their odd concoctions and the latte foam art. Victor rather liked the rose that the angry blonde barista made into his double shot Intoxicated latte, half sweetener, caramel flavor shot, “who the fuck orders this shit anyway”. However, it was the only coffee shop that was on the block. It never ceased to amaze Victor that there wasn’t a Starbucks for a good five block square around Georgi’s.

As per the name, Georgi Popovich owned the coffee shop. He was always trying to get into the local community stage productions, but would be inevitably sent away for being overly dramatic. Mila, the cashier, was a senior at the university, and attended several of the 400 level Russian Literature classes that Victor TA’d for. The two baristas were Christophe Giacometti and Yuri Plisetsky. Both students, senior and freshman respectively; both blondes, though Chris’ color came out of a bottle; both masters of coffee crafting, Chris inventing the drinks and Yuri making them.

Yuri was better known as the “angry blonde barista” in Victor’s mind. There was at least one time where, nose deep in an obscure Nabokov work Victor had called him that to his face. He said it in Russian, but it seemed that Yuri knew Russian and threw back a series of insults about how Victor’s mother had mated with a scurvy ridden flea. Points had to be given out for sheer inventiveness.

But back to Mr. Yes-Just-A-Black-Coffee.

Yes-Just-A-Black-Coffee always came in wearing a harried look, complete with paint drying somewhere on his face and his hair disheveled in thirty different directions. How he made it work, Victor didn’t know. If his own hair ever did that, he’d never hear the end of it from himself. It was charming, though, on Yes-Just-A-Black-Coffee. It made the neat blue frames of his glasses stand out in contrast. His clothing was likewise paint stained and rumpled.

Victor could never pull something like that off. Every article was chosen with care and planning for the exact image he wanted to create, which was not “Waiting for Godot” couture. He needed the respect of his students, despite being the youngest doctoral candidate at the university. That meant pressed suits, matching ties and socks, and stylish scarves. Clothing that Victor could rumple was reserved for all-nighters grading last minute essays which missed the point of “Lolita” completely.

Most of the time, after Victor received his drink, he’d settle down in the chair by the door with a green pen (never red) and start grading. Soon after, Yes-Just-A-Black-Coffee would stroll by with his drink in a to-go cup and smile shyly at Victor while he left. This happened every day that Victor was there. Soft smiles that made Victor want to swoon, a mutual head nod of un-familiar familiarity. Then Victor got to watch that great ass walk out the door.

“He doesn’t come in when you’re not here,” Mila said to him one day as he paid his $5.95.

“Who?”

“The guy after you, the one who orders just a black coffee. He looks in the windows for you.”

“Of course he would, I’m magnetic after all.” Mila gave Victor a knowing smile and his change. She knew that he was utterly dying inside from that knowledge. Are you there, God? It’s Victor Nikiforov. He needs to know Yes-Just-A-Black-Coffee’s real name, ASAP.

“If you were any more magnetic, Chris and all his ear piercings would stick to you.”

“Not that I’d be bothered by that,” called Chris over the steaming whine of the espresso machine. “But Henri might.” Chris’ boyfriend, the aforementioned Henri, rolled his eyes from his bar seat.

The next week was finals week at the University. Georgi’s was in full swing. Chris and Yuri were making lattes, mochas, and whatever else as fast as they could. Even Georgi was forced out of the back office to man the never used second cashier’s station.

The line was hell to stand in. There were at least three people on their fifth coffee run, awake and studying on their third day awake. Others were just starting and ordering Monsters, Georgi’s Alchemy’s coffee and Monster concoction that Victor considered a potion straight from some underworld.

Once Victor had reached the head of the line, he saw that Yes-Just-A-Black-Coffee had only just joined the line, putting him ten people behind Victor.

That just would not do.

“Double shot Intoxicated Latte, extra caramel syrup. And a black coffee to go.”

“And a black coffee to go?” Mila raised her eyebrows at Victor.

“Yes, and a black coffee to go.”

Mila looked down the line and shook her head. “Fancy toxic and plain Jane on a bus coming right up.”

On the pick up end of the counter, Victor grabbed the to-go cup first. He scribbled his phone number and “text me? –Victor” on the side with his green pen. Yes-Just-A-Black-Coffee was now seven people away, and looking more harassed than ever.

“Here.” Victor handed Yes-Just-A-Black-Coffee the to go cup.

“Oh…” Yes-Just-A-Black-Coffee blushed, looking down and to the side a moment before taking the cup with both hands. “Thanks.”

“Better to get it now than to have to wait in the line. See you next time?”

“Yeah… Yeah, sure.”

Victor wasn’t even sure that Yes-Just-A-Black-Coffee had even noticed the note, since one hand was placed right over the inked words. With bated breath, Victor sat as his usual table, and went through his usual ritual of watching Yes-Just-A-Black-Coffee leave with his coffee.

After the person of Victor’s gaze left his line of vision, a text message came through from a new number. It read: _Hi, Victor. My name is Yuuri. I actually hate coffee._

_Oh? But you order it every time I see you._

_Seems wrong to order tea in a coffee shop. Plain coffee is the cheapest thing on the menu._

Victor laughed and shook his head before typing his next reply. _Can I meet you for drinks that you do like? Say tomorrow at 8?_

_I’d like that._

**Author's Note:**

> some background: Victor here, as mentioned, is a teacher's assistant and doctoral candidate for a degree in Russian literature. 
> 
> Yuuri is a senior at the university, going for an art degree with an emphasis in painting.
> 
> Yuri P is also in the art school, but his emphasis is in photography, and foam art. 
> 
> Mila is majoring in Modern Languages, with an emphasis in Russian, which is why she takes the literature classes that Victor teaches.
> 
> Chris is a Dance and Phisio-Therapy double major, and his boyfriend majors in theatre, concentrating on the technical side of stagecraft.


End file.
